


Blessing

by Chrysaora



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alien Flora & Fauna, Consent Issues Exchange 2019, Dubious Consentacles, Other, PWP, playing with hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 15:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/pseuds/Chrysaora
Summary: In order to forge an alliance between the Resistance and the planet Pythal, Rey must earn the blessing of the Great Pyth.
Relationships: Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Rey/Tentacle Plant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	Blessing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rubynye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/gifts).

“You don’t have to do this, Rey,” Finn said. His doubts were obvious. “We can just tell General Organa that the Pythians refused.”

Rey squinted at the narrow gap between the trunks of two trees, trying and failing to see through the gloom and into the sacred grove beyond. The overall visual impression was foreboding, but she didn’t sense any hostility or ill intent. The Force was here, though—as it was everywhere—and pulsing with rude, exuberant life.

“Alliance with Pythal is the Resistance’s single most important strategic objective in this sector. If earning the Great Pyth’s blessing is their one requirement before they will agree to the mutual defense treaty, I have to try,” Rey said, placing a reassuring hand on Finn’s upper arm.

His muscles bunched with poorly suppressed tension underneath the palm of her hand. “But we don’t even know who this ‘Great Pyth’ is…or if he’ll be reasonable in his requirements!” Finn protested. “And besides, why does it have to be _you_?”

Rey didn’t actually know why it had to be her, other than that the Pythians had taken one look at her and said so. She wasn’t even certain that the Great Pyth, whom the Pythians regarded as a kind of deity, was a “he,” given that she wasn’t certain whether Pythians had any concept of gender as humans understood it in the first place. More plant than animal, the planet Pythal’s native Pythians were long-lived, graceful beings who subsisted wholly on water, air, and sunlight. They were also highly intelligent and technologically advanced, and this made them valuable potential allies to the embattled Resistance.

_If_ Rey could convince them to become allies to the Resistance. _If _she could earn the Great Pyth’s blessing. _If, if, if._

“The Pythians were quite clear that only one person should enter the grove at a time, so let’s take them at their word, shall we?” she said. She’d already made her decision; now she was committed to seeing this through with the Great Pyth and doing whatever needed to be done.

“But—”

“Wait here.”

“But _Rey_—”

“_Finn_. It’s okay; I promise! I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”

And with that self-evident declaration of simple fact, Rey slipped through the gap between the trees and entered the sacred grove.

The tangled branches of the trees overhead blocked out most of the sunlight, so it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. The grove was approximately fifteen meters in diameter and roughly circular. The ground beneath Rey’s feet was soft and deeply carpeted with decaying leaves. A damp, vegetal scent assaulted her nostrils. Other than Rey herself, the grove appeared empty. She could detect no sign of movement.

“Hello?” Rey called out.

No response.

“Hello?” Rey tried again, walking slowly towards the center of the grove. “Great Pyth?”

Nothing. Was anyone even here?

“Great Pyth, I’ve to come receive your bless—”

Rey’s speech abruptly cut off as she felt something yank at her hair from behind. She spun about, reaching for the lightsaber clipped to her belt, and relaxed almost immediately when she realized: Her bun had gotten snagged in a twisty vine dangling free from a low tree branch. Rey reached up, intending to disentangle her hair from the vine…

…and another vine grabbed both of her wrists and lifted her up off of her feet.

“H-hey! Let me down!” Rey kicked and flailed. Her struggles were futile. More vines appeared to immobilize her arms, and they were fibrous and strong and securely anchored to Gods Only Knew Where.

Other vines continued to play with her hair. They weren’t violent or anything, but there were at least three or four, each as thick as one of Rey’s fingers, and together they were tugging her buns loose, twining through the newly freed strands of her hair, massaging her skull, and just generally mussing everything up.

And there were yet more vines, too, too many to count, stroking her face and lips and neck and throat, questing down the curves of her body beneath her clothing, squeezing her breasts and teasing her nipples, stroking her back and her belly, sliding lower, between the cleft of her buttocks and through her pubic hair, between her legs—

“Oh!” Rey gasped, a sudden jolt of unwanted pleasure lancing through her as a smooth, slender vine found her clitoris, curled around the tiny button of flesh, and _squeezed_. And squeezed again. And again. And again.

“Aaahhh!” Another, thicker vine took advantage of her open mouth to slide between her teeth. It did not plunge down her throat or otherwise choke her; instead, it twisted and writhed inside of her mouth almost like a tongue. It tasted sweet as well, like nectar. Even the scent of the vines which covered her was pleasant, floral and mildly astringent.

Rey was starting to develop certain suspicions as to the real identity of the Great Pyth and what “earning ‘his’ blessing” entailed, and her suspicions were basically confirmed when she felt the vines tease at the moist opening of her vagina and the tighter pucker of her anus simultaneously and begin probing for entry. One entered her…then another…and another…and another until she was stuffed nearly to bursting from both ends with at least a dozen writhing, twisting, _undulating _vines—

Rey tossed her head and moaned around the vine still in her mouth. She wouldn’t necessarily have consented to this if she’d known in advance. Now, though, she didn't really have a choice; the Great Pyth had made her choice for her. There were vines everywhere—vines wrapped around her head like a crown, vines interlaced with her fingertips, vines caressing her inner thighs, vines flicking the swollen, unhooded glans of her clitoris and even brushing against her urethra, vines squeezing her quivering buttocks, vines massaging her calves, vines looped around her ankles, vines tickling the soles and arches of her feet—

But the best, the absolute _best_, were the vines inside her, fucking her, no, no, _making love to her_. They stroked and stretched her, each moving independently and yet in elegant tandem. They were making her shiver and clench, hips juddering, seeking more friction, and more, and she was wet, so wet, her fluids were trickling down her legs and onto the ground beneath her. She was going to come, oh, oh Gods, she was going to come—

The intensity of that first orgasm was consuming, scouring her thoughts clean and empty. Rey jerked and shook and heaved, suspended helplessly in the air, unable to escape the all-consuming ecstasy, unable to do anything but _submit_. And the vines kept right on going, merciless and perfect, drawing every sensation out, refusing to allow any of it to fade, forcing her over the precipice again and again and again—

When, some unknown number of hours later, Rey emerged from sacred grove, disheveled but deliciously sated, Finn stopped his agitated pacing and boggled. “What happened to your hair? Where did all those little flowers come from?” he asked.

Rey shrugged slowly. There were indeed white flowers woven into the strands of her unbound hair like a night sky full of stars. “A sign that I’ve earned the Great Pyth’s blessing, I suppose. So, shall we go and give the Pythians the good news?”

END

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to the exchange on November 12, 2019.


End file.
